Fathers and Sons
by spqr
Summary: Ryan's father gets out of prison. It's not what you might expect.
1. Default Chapter

A/N: My attempt to rehabilitate PapaAtwood. Chapter one of three (I think). Please read and review. No words of mine could ever be enough to express my gratitude to the Ryan thread over on TwoP--y'all keep me thinking. In related news, Peter Gallagher as Sandy Cohen just bowls me over with every episode.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I bring the love; please don't bring the lawsuits.

****

Fathers and Sons:

Sandy Cohen's phone rings. Nothing new about that, but it's the internal line from his personal secretary, so he puts aside the folder he's perusing. A_nother Botox treatment gone wrong?_ and picks up the phone.

"Yes, Patricia?"

"Mr. Cohen, there's someone here to see you. His name is Mr. Atwood."

"My son is here? Patricia, you know Ryan! Show him in!"

"Mr. Cohen, it's not Ryan. He says his name is, uh...James Atwood?"

__

James Atwood? Jamie Atwood...Ryan's father?

"OK Patricia. Keep him out there for a minute while I get his file, OK? Thanks."

Sandy turns to his personal file cabinet, unlocking it quickly and removing Ryan's file. Flipping through it, he looks for James Atwood's trial records, his sentencing decree...there it is; 10 - 15 for armed robbery of a convenience store. Sentenced July 5, 1996, incarcerated that same day. Ryan had just turned nine. _Why is James out already? It's only been seven and a half years._

Sandy prepares himself, both mentally and physically. "All right, Patricia. Show him in."

The man who enters Sandy's office is short, but stocky. Prison built muscles fill out his frame, and his blond hair, shading to grey at the temples, is cut regulation short. He wears what Sandy recognizes is prison issued "outside" clothes--scratchy, poly/cotton blue shirt, black work pants, and dark blue windbreaker. James sits down in the client's chair--lower that Sandy's, built that way to intimidate, and says, without preamble, "I guess you know where my son is."

Sandy, lawyer-like, tries to stall. "Which son are we talking about, Mr. Atwood?"

"You know which one. You think I don't know where Trey is? I know you know about the prison grapevine."

Sandy studies the man sitting before him. James sits quietly, hands in his lap, obviously ill-at-ease in the swanky surroundings of Partridge, Savage, and Kahn, but still bearing an aura of determination. "So" he begins, "you know where Trey is. You must know where Ryan is already. You talk to Trey lately? You're here--that tells me that you know."

James shifts a little in the chair, fidgets, looking down at his hands. "Yeah, I know. That's why I came here when...when I could."

Sandy stills, and then responds slowly, "Mr. Atwood. I'm not harboring a fugitive from justice here, am I? I'll admit, it wouldn't be the first time, but you have to tell me now."

"No! I got out fair and square! They call it early release...I don't know. One day, I'm just working in the prison library, shelving the books, you know? Next day, I see my lawyer in...I don't know how long...and he says 'Jamie, guess what?' 'What?' I say, and he says to me, 'Prisons are overcrowded. Good inmates, like you? Early release.' The next thing I know, I've got some clothes..." he indicates what he's wearing, "a hundred dollars, my watch, and a card that Trey sent me with your name on it. Said Ryan was living with you now."

"What, exactly, is it you want from me, Mr. Atwood?"

"I just wanna know my kid's OK."

"If you're referring to Ryan, he's fine."

"Can I...can I see him? I mean, not...I don't wanna intrude or anything, I just...it's been so long..."

Sandy switches tactics towards questions he's reasonably sure he knows the answers to. It's a lawyer's habit, and it usually serves him well, at least on the stand on those rare occasions he gets to go to court. "So. Have you had any contact with Dawn?"

"No. Well, she and Ryan visited a couple of times in the beginning, but Dawny? She's, she wasn't...the most stable, you know?"

"She held jobs. She stayed out of jail. She made a home for your sons."

James bows his head and says, "Maybe she did. I don't know. Do you?" His head comes up. "Did she? Why is Ryan with you? I know why Jamie's in jail--stealing a car, and he had priors, and drugs, but Ryan? Jamie said she just flipped out on Ryan when they got arrested."

"Jamie?"

"Trey. James III. I'm James Jr., but he's the third--that's why we always called him Trey. Dawny said Trey didn't want to visit me--hell, he was 12 or 13 by then, I guess he was ashamed or something, but Ryan...until they stopped coming, he was always so glad to see me...but then she didn't come no more. Said she had to make another life--a new start. Move away. I guess she didn't do so good...well, who am I to judge, huh? I didn't do so good either. But Dawny needed...and Trey and Ryan were so hungry..."

"Mr. Atwood. You don't need to apologize to me, or make excuses. Trey made his own choices, before I ever met him, but Ryan...he's made choices, too. He chose to make something out of his life, he chose..."

"To live with you?"

"Yes," Sandy says, but in his heart he's not sure.

"Look, I just wanna...he's OK, right? Ryan? He was such a good kid...good in school, helping around the house...he's, jeez, he must be sixteen now. Is he...do you have a picture or something?"

Sandy glances involuntarily to the picture that holds pride of place on his desk; his family--Kirsten with her beautiful smile, Seth mugging goofily, Ryan smiling shyly, and then says carefully, "I'll ask you again, Mr. Atwood. What is it you want from me? What do you want from Ryan?"

"I don't _want_ anything anymore, Mr. Cohen. Prison teaches you not to _want_, believe you me. But he's my kid, you know? I..." James changes the topic abruptly. "Listen, I got a good job lined up through my P.O.; I'm living for now in a halfway house but the minute I get my first paycheck I'm gonna get my own apartment. Can you...can you tell him that, from me? Could you just...tell him that I'm trying? I'd appreciate it." He stands up, then, and runs a hand through his hair.

Sandy stands up, too, and says, "I'll tell him that. But whether or not he wants to get in touch with you is entirely up to him, and if I ever find out that you've made an attempt to contact him without my knowledge, I promise you that I will not stand for it. Understood?"

"Yeah. Understood." As James turns to go, he says softly, "Thank you for seeing me. There's a lot of people that wouldn't, that don't...well, all I'm saying is thanks."

Sandy sits for a long time at his desk after James leaves, before he finally packs up his briefcase and goes home to his family.


	2. Ch 2

A/N: Chapter two, chock full o' angsty!Ryan and angsty!Sandy. By the way, the novel Seth refers to, and from which I have stolen my title, is Turgenev's _Fathers and Sons_. Good stuff!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Mad props to Josh Schwartz for their existence.

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Fathers and Sons: Chapter Two

All during dinner, Sandy's been distracted. He thinks he remembers Seth babbling about some Russian novel that he and Ryan have to read for school, he definitely remembers Kirsten's worried looks from the other end of the table, and he just might have actually made a comment or two, to make it seem like he's been paying attention. Now, as he and Kirsten place the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, she turns to him and says quietly, "OK, Sandy. What is it?"

He can hear Seth and Ryan in the other room, Seth saying, "Yeah, but, dude? A nihilist? With bombs? Just because his dad's some big landowner guy? I mean, my grandpa owns, like, half of Newport and it doesn't make me want to blow stuff up. Well, blowing stuff up would maybe be cool, but not because of my grandpa..."

"Ryan's father came to see me today, at my office," he says softly. 

"What?! He's in jail! Sandy, why isn't he in jail?" Kirsten's voice rises in agitation and he makes a shushing motion with his hand, glancing into the other room. She gets the hint and says, in a quieter tone, "Why isn't he still in jail? What does he want? How does he know about...our family?"

"Some kind of early release program. I'll put out some calls tomorrow. He says he doesn't want anything...he just wants to know Ryan's OK, maybe see him..."

"Sandy, no!"

"Honey, Trey told him that Ryan was living here now. That's how he knew to find me. He said...well, he said he had a job lined up, that he's making his P.O. meetings...I don't know."

"Sandy, you told me he robbed a convenience store. With a _gun_! He hasn't seen Ryan in over seven years! Hasn't written, hasn't called...what kind of father could he possibly be?"

"Maybe the kind that tried to provide for his family the only way he thought possible. He led me to believe that he robbed that store because his family needed the money. That Dawn needed the money for...something; that Trey and Ryan were hungry..."

"All right, I understand that. But why didn't he just get a job then? Why put his life, his family, in jeopardy by stealing?"

"What, like Jimmy Cooper?" The minute the words come out of his mouth he's sorry, but he can't shake the image of James in his office, quiet, yet determined, like his son, to make things work however he knows how. "I'm sorry, honey. That wasn't fair. But, frankly, I'm at a loss here. I've got to talk to Ryan...tell him his father's out of prison, at least. He deserves that much." Sandy's not sure if the 'he' that he's referring to is Ryan, or James, or both.

They both turn to look at their boys, sitting side by side in the TV room. Seth's gesticulating, and Ryan's nodding, one eye on the TV and the other on Seth. Kirsten simply says, "I trust you."

***************************

Sandy sighs and enters the TV room. "Seth, could you give Ryan and me a couple of minutes? I need to talk to him."

Seth bounces up from the couch. "Uh-oh, bro...this sounds serious! Dad, if it's about that teeny tiny window in the pool house, I gotta say that we were just practicing our golf swings...well, I was...but you can hardly see the cardboard..." Ryan's looking at Seth, willing him to shut up. After all these months, he's still too on guard not to know that this has nothing to do with Seth's little golfing adventure.

"Seth, the window can wait, although thank you for letting me know about it and who was responsible. Can you leave us alone now, please?"

"Yeah, OK...uh, going, now..." Seth throws a sympathetic glance over his shoulder as he leaves the room.

Sandy turns to Ryan, who has straightened up on the couch and is now holding a pillow in his lap, as if its insubstantial bulk might shield him from what's to come. The sight of that, coupled with Ryan's look of apprehension, just about breaks Sandy's heart.

"Am I in trouble?"

"Ryan, no!" Sandy sighs, then subsides onto the couch next to him, trying desperately to choose the right words. "You're not in trouble, Ryan, about the window or anything else." Sandy clears his throat, trying to get the words out. "I had a visitor at my office today, Ryan. It was your father."

For a second, an eternity, Ryan remains perfectly still, and then in a rough voice he says, "No. My dad's in jail."

Sandy doesn't know if he can stand to continue this conversation, but he knows he has to. "No, Ryan, he's not. Not anymore. He got out on an early release program. He's been in touch with Trey; that's why he came to my office. He asked me about you, if maybe he could see you, Ryan."

"No! He's in jail! He robbed a convenience store! I don't know who came to see you, but it's not him!" Ryan's voice rises and chokes on the last words, and Sandy can see that he's clutching the pillow so tightly that his knuckles have gone white. Sandy moves to put his arm around Ryan, but Ryan flinches and backs up into the corner of the couch, eyes wide.

"Ryan, it's him. I want you to know that I made him no promises. In fact, I warned him that if he tried to contact you without my knowledge I would be down on him like a ton of bricks, and I will. But, son, I couldn't keep this from you. You need to tell me what you want. Talk to me, Ryan."

"I don't want to see him, and I'm not your _son_!" And with that, Ryan throws the pillow to the ground and bolts out of the room. Sandy turns quickly, to see him narrowly miss taking a header into the pool as he runs across the lawn and shuts himself into the pool house. He can't tell which has hurt him worse: Ryan's words, or his own knowledge that they're true.

**************************

As Sandy enters their bedroom, he sees Kirsten, sitting up in bed, nervously rubbing lotion into her hands while staring off into space. At the sound of the door, she turns and says anxiously, "How did it go with Ryan, sweetie?"

Sandy is still standing just inside the door, but when he hears that concerned tone in her voice, something that he's tried very hard to hold together inside himself all day finally breaks. His breath hitches, and within a heartbeat he's in his wife's arms, and he's crying, _crying_, and she's holding him like she'll never let go, and she's saying, "Oh, Sandy. Oh, sweetie. I know, I know."

"Kirsten, he said he wasn't my son! What...why can't he see that I love him so much? That _we _love him...he _is_ our son, Kirsten! Why can't he see that?"

Kirsten's hands never stop their comfort, combing through the thick mass of Sandy's hair. Finally she says, "He is our son, sweetie, but don't you see that we've had the easier time of it? We added to our family. Ryan's just a boy, and I'm sure he feels that seeing himself as our son would mean that we've replaced his parents, and he doesn't want to do that. He'll learn that there's more than enough love in the world, in himself, to go around. Until he does, we just have to go with what we've got."

He straightens up then, and looks her in the eye. "What have I got, Kirsten?"

"You've got all of us, Sandy. Even Ryan."

************************************

After Sandy's fallen asleep, and Seth's bedroom light has gone out as well, she looks to the pool house. Kirsten can see very well that it's dark, that Ryan has pulled down the shades. He doesn't know that she can see light leaking out around the shades, when the lights are on. There are a lot of things that Ryan doesn't know. He doesn't know that both she and Sandy watch, sometimes, to make sure he doesn't take it into his head to just leave.

She's intending to go to the pool house, but when she gets to the kitchen, she sees Ryan in the sudden flare of the refrigerator light.

"Ryan?"

She doesn't want to startle him, but she does; he almost drops the bottle of juice that he's just removed from the fridge. "I...uh, I was thirsty...?"

She turns the lights on and motions for Ryan to sit with her at the kitchen island. He takes a seat, on the opposite side. She eyes him over the centerpiece, but he won't meet her gaze; he's concentrating on the bottle in his hand, fiddling with the label. Her heart aches for him so much she wonders if she can bear to keep silent until he might speak. 

Finally, he does. "Sandy...he told me, about...my dad." She waits some more, in Ryan's silence. "He's...really out...of jail now?" She nods an affirmative. "How...? What...does that...make me?"

"Ryan, you need to tell us. It's hard, I know." Kirsten shakes her head and says, "Talking's difficult, honey, I know that. I...Sandy? He's good at talking, like Seth, I guess, but when it comes right down to it, I think that sometimes they talk just to make sounds. Don't tell either of them I said that!" Ryan gives a snort, as though he's heard that before. She continues, "You know that Sandy and I would never hurt you intentionally, right?" At his trusting, yet dubious nod, she says, "I would like you to think about your father for a minute; without thinking about your mother. Can you do that?"

Ryan says, slowly, "I don't know. She said...stuff. She said he was holding her back, she said he was a loser, a criminal...she said if we didn't do what she wanted we'd end up just like him...like Trey," he finishes bitterly. 

Kirsten says, gently, "What about your father?"

Ryan lets out a sigh that blows his bangs up. "What about him? He went to jail! Doesn't that tell you what kind of person he is?" Again, she waits him out. "OK, fine! He read me books, picture books, making sure I'd follow along. He took care of my mom when she was sick. She was sick a lot. Yeah, I know what that means now, but...he's a criminal! Can't you understand that? He's been in jail! He can't be somebody else now, not after that. Trey's not."

After a minute, she says quietly, "You are."

He gives a mirthless laugh. "Am I?"

"Yes, honey, you are. I know it's hard to see when you're right in the middle of it, so you'll have to trust that I know what I'm talking about." He shrugs his shoulders a little, still not looking at her. "You don't have to see him if you don't want to, Ryan, but we're not going to tell you what to do. OK? You have to tell us."

In a small voice, almost inaudible, Ryan replies, "OK."

She rises to go back to bed, gently running her hand over Ryan's hair as she passes. 

****************************************

When Ryan enters the kitchen the next morning, Sandy and Kirsten are drinking coffee and talking quietly. They both look up, and Ryan says hesitantly, "So...I think I want to see him. If that's OK?"

Sandy looks at him searchingly, and then replies, "OK, kiddo. I'll make some calls today, locate his P.O., set up a meeting."

"Do you want someone to go with you, honey?" Kirsten asks.

"No, I...but thanks. And, I'm..." he looks at Sandy. "I'm sorry about what I said before."

"You don't have to apologize for your feelings, Ryan. Not in this family," Sandy replies.

"OK, well...I've gotta get to school..." And as he shoulders his backback, he gives them a small, shy smile. 


End file.
